In Hand, Both Pen And Sword
by KCKidCandy
Summary: There is no memory for some people which is simply put aside, a lack of knowledge that many deal with. But Vorpal Lutwidge cannot accept her cluelessness. And if Pandora can help Alice, there's no reason why they can't help her. BreakxOC.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark day in Britain. The clouds stuck close to the earth, shrouding buildings in a slate of grey fog. Few carriages lined the rough cobblestone streets, most people having stayed in their cottages or manors to avoid the rain that would surely come. Aristocrats were busily inking important letters, dukes were tending to the work they'd ignored due to the strangely warm weather, and even residents of the famed Lutwidge Academy were locked up in their dorms with books or important school assignments. Students scribbled vigorously at pieces of parchment and had little time for more than a greeting. It is odd how days with unfavorable weather make people realize how much they've missed over the past weeks. This meant school children were bustling about, eager to finish pending reports and homework from months before so they wouldn't miss the next day of sun and warmth. Almost every pupil had some pressing academic matter to attend to. In fact, all but one young woman were trying desperately to finish what they had not.

The singular girl braced herself against the chillingly crisp air by pulling a thick jacket about her. She pulled her lips into a thin smile and pressed forwards through the heavy fog. Elegant drops of silvery rain fell against her clothing, soaking it until it flopped against deeply scarred flesh. The light smile she had donned turned quickly to a frown as memories of the claw marks she wore drifted into her mind. Would she get rid of them if she could? No, because the gnarled and darkened flesh held some tiny sliver of a rough guess of why she was the way she was. The girl flicked her purple eyes back and forth nervously, having lost a bit of sight in the stormy weather. Her second eye offered no help, however. A grotesque scar ran from just above her eyebrow to the tip of her nose in the same manner lighting crackled across the sky. The once gleaming purple orb was now a brutally blackened reminder of what used to be. An eye patch was fitted over the abrasion, trying to keep any passersby from gasping or staring, though the patch's efforts fell flat. The protective slip had been decorated with a large, yellow, circle which was carefully dotted with two black plops of paint and a sharp-toothed grin. It was the child's sign for everything, a smiling face with teeth like those of a shark's. She marked it on things that belonged to her and it took the place of a proper signature, much too many an uptight teacher's dismay. The small tag on the back of her uniform was inked with only that same symbol and the cover of her favorite pocket watch held no more than her signature doodle.

She stepped into a small corner store, the scent of ink and parchment drifting into her nostrils. To her, there was no more familiar fragrance than pen and paper. Most of her time was spent writing poems and children's books and even a few novels. But, unfortunately, she'd run out of ink for her favorite, and only, pen. It had been clutched to her chest as she walked through the storm, safe and sound in her grasp. It's slithering, silver, body was slowly released from her grip, revealing gorgeous, iridescent blue stones and a gleaming, ink stained tip. She smiled at the writing utensil, taking unending pride in it. The older man behind the counter ducked his wrinkled face down for a moment and came back with a pot filled with an onyx black substance. He and the young woman exchanged a beaming nod. She pulled a soggy handful of coins from her pocket and set it before him.

"More ink, hm?" the elderly male chuckled heartily. This was the third time that week his young friend had ordered ink.

"Yes, I've been keeping up with my poetry! I'm on the verge of something genius! But I just can't quite grasp it..." she clapped her hands together enthusiastically before settling them on the cork-sealed well of ink.

"Well, when you have something you like, I'd love to publish it for you." he suggested, secretly hoping his acquaintance would be able to produce something profit worthy. The old man was rather greedy despite his kind disposition. Just as the woman was quite evil when not hiding behind a curtain of innocence and sweetness. They gave each other a parting glance and a effortless wave before heading in separate directions for the night. She pressed the inkwell into her breast pocket, spinning her pen about as if it were air. It was tossed up into the rainy night sky and caught with precision. The once useless utensil morphed into a glittering sword, encrusted with blue and red gems. It's blade was thick yet honed to a slicing point and it's handle wore the same mark as the one on her eye patch. Two snakes of silver metal slithered their way up the bottom of the blade, eyes of ruby and sapphire. Their tongues stuck out and traveled to the beginning of the sharp edges, serrating a small portion of it for extra power. Down the length of the sword laid the same shinning blue stones, set in cups of steel. They were much larger than they'd been on the pen, which made them much more impressive. It's wielder swung it around with care. The woman carried it in it's true form all the way back to the Lutwidge campus.

"Miss Vorpal! Miss Vorpal! You have a letter from a mister... Xerxes?" a middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform went racing forward. She gripped the sword-maiden's jacket, watching her whip around and shove the tip of her pen at the maid's forehead.

"Oh, goodness, you scared me! My apologies, thank you for the letter." Vorpal plucked the yellowed envelope from the maid's hands. She dismissed the woman and headed to a stuffy dorm room.

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><p>Only the second fic of done so no flames please! This is the very beginning, but I promise if I get good review and continue, the next will have a lot more of a plot. Reviews and criticism are requested! Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Vorpal smiled, more joyous than she'd been in months. Letters always had a special magic about them in her mind, a sort of loving spell. They made her feel important, especially when the letter happened to come from a dear friend. Vorpal received invitations to parties and social functions on a daily basis being the last of the Lutwidge dukedom. They were known for their intellect, their calm violet eyes, their curly brown hair, their short temper, but most of all, their love of writing. According to many, the Lutwidge family went extinct long ago, and the academy was built in their manor's place. But when Vorpal suddenly appeared in the academy's basement, they knew she was none other than a pureblood duchess. Her title as Headmaster always made her a bit edgy, as if her shoulders had been weighted without any consent. Not to mention, people tended to look down upon her for appearing so young. Vorpal even attended classes to ensure that the educators she'd enlisted were top-notch and that her students were behaving accordingly. In a very short time, her status as an orphan had withered away, revealing the intellectual, and somewhat psychotic, woman she actually was. Her mind was sharp as the sword she wielded and though she lacked the beauty most aristocratic woman maintained, she had beaten some of the most prestigious swordsmen to a bloody pulp. Vorpal fondly recalled all the times she'd established her prowess as she tore open the darkly inked note and began formulating letters to words and words to sentences.

'Dear Vorpal Lutwidge,

It's been far too long since I last wrote you; I've been busy with Oz and his little rabbit. Though Pandora is stealing him from me, much as they did with a certain woman. Have they been keeping with you? Monitoring your powers and the lot? Anyway, the reason I wrote you is to explain a little outing being taken. Oscar is hoping to cheer Oz up with a trip to your academy, with the intention of also finding whom stole Ada's heart. I told him to arrange a meeting with Headmaster Lutwidge, but he decided the matters of Ada's love were too pressing. I'm sure he'll be breaking in rather soon. And, unfortunately, causing quite the commotion at your establishment. I would caution you to be careful over the course of these next few days, but I'm sure any problem that arises will be handled easily by the hilt of your sword. As you already know the Baskervilles are tracking Oz. But, on a lighter note, tell me how you've been! Has Holy Knight been selling as well you hoped? Is your chest getting any better?

Sincerely,

Xerxes Break'

Vorpal let a wheezing cough escape her upturned lips. A few flecks of burgundy stained the parchment with their moist embrace. A sharp, searing pain gurgled from her lungs in the form of a phlegm filled rasp. The room spun, and breathing suddenly became a heavy challenge. Clutching her collar with one fist, she undid the cream colored buttons running down the front of her uniform. Vorpal tore the knot from her corset lace as fast as humanly possible. More blood sidled from her lips, making a Rorschach of red form on the letter. She clamped a hand over her mouth and prayed it wouldn't happen again. But the maroon life-force seeped through her gangly fingers in a cascade of illness. Vorpal's breathing slowly evened out, though the metallic taste on her tongue remained.

"Yoohoo!" someone cooed. The cherry wood doors of a dusty cabinet began to open slowly. A white haired male with a cloth doll balanced on his shoulder stepped out. His body was tall and slender, a stark black cane clutched between his long fingernails. He was dressed in an oversized white coat, tethered to his neck so it wouldn't fall off but would still keep him warm, a silky purple shirt, and a pair of black shorts with suspenders dangling down. His teeth were aligned in a perfect array, displayed in shimmering white through the dimly lit room.

"Break!" Vorpal rasped, clutching her shirt closed with both hands. The young woman tried to look a bit upset over him barging in, but she couldn't hide her delight. Break had been there to comfort her during the hardest of times. He and the Rainsworth family were endlessly hospitable towards Vorpal. She and Sharon were splendid friends, though Break tried to keep the Lutwidge duchess to himself, and Shelley had taken quite a liking to the young woman.

"Oh, are you indecent? My mistake, I heard your coughing and figured now would be the best time to reveal myself." Break said as he pivoted, allowing Vorpal to make herself a bit more presentable. She quickly covered the blood stains with a parcel of paper and wiped the last of the red gunk from her mouth. If there were a reason to let her colleague worry, she wouldn't have. Not to mention Break already knew how much of a feeble mess the woman's chest had become. The attacks happened once a week at the least according to the last letter Vorpal had sent. They'd become progressively worse over the past few years, and Vorpal insisted it was caused by the pressure of finishing her bestselling book series, Holy Knight.

"It doesn't matter much; I seem to recall a strange red dot that used to watch me while I changed into my night clothes." Vorpal jeered. She often teased Break about his perverse side, his reaction was normally entertaining. "What happens to be your business?"

"Well, some mysteries must go unsolved I suppose! As for my business, I just came to give you fair warning over Oscar's visit. And, Sharon asked me to give you a few things..." he ducked back into the cabinet. Break pulled out a vibrant yellow dress, black lace traveling above the straight neck line. Raven colored fabric peered out from beyond the silky sleeves and on the corner was Vorpal's signature. There was a strip of dark ribbon around the waist before it belled out. Big black Xs crossed over rumpled white material and in the center of the stomach was the sharp toothed face. Draped over it was a gorgeous, sun colored, eyepatch with 'V.L' scratched in black thread. Vorpal tried to look as surprised and awestruck as possible. She appreciated the gesture more than anything, but the color yellow was the ultimate source of distaste and anger in her life. It remained on her patch, but only because the shop had been out of every other color and she feared if she didn't paint it she'd lose the idea. Yellow was such a disgusting hue, it displayed joy in bright and vivid excitement. Vorpal was a somewhat happy person, but yellow was her least favorite shade of anything and everything.

"It's beautiful! I'll tell Sharon how much I enjoy it the next time I see her." she gulped, unconsciously plastering a grimace on her face. Break tossed the unwanted gift on a bed which was pinched securely in the corner. He chuckled, perching himself on the writing desk and swinging his legs back and forth.

"Little Miss Lutwidge is a horrid liar!" he crooned in a sing-songy voice. Vorpal looked at the ground in a defeated manner. She didn't know she was that terrible at bending the truth. Perhaps if she were to make it a bit more believable, it would be harder to spot. The young woman leaned back in her chair, pressing her dainty feet against the badly painted wall. Her dorm was once the office of Duke Lutwidge and hadn't been renovated in his honor. Charles Lutwidge was supposedly Vorpal's biological father, a man considered genius by all other dukedoms. Having no memory of him left Vorpal feeling detached and distant. So, instead of sleeping in the Headmaster's den or a more modern room, she sacrificed luxury and slept in an outdated hovel.

"Oh well, I can't be wonderful at everything." Vorpal paused for a moment before continuing a bit nervously. "Um... Break... Since you are making so much headway with Alice, do you think maybe you'd consider... Allowing me to come along with you? I have a man from another academy who's willing to fill in as headmaster... I wouldn't want to impose, though! So if-"

"Of course~! Just tell Oscar I invited you, I'm sure Sharon will be willing to share a room and whatnot." Break interposed. Secretly, he was much more inclined to help Vorpal on her quest for lost thoughts than Alice. Vorpal was far different from the B-Rabbit. She didn't run into things without thinking about them, she tried to lie to make others happy, she wasn't commanding or forceful unless she had to be, but the best thing about Vorpal was the side of her that had none of these qualities. In the heat of battle, argument, or when she was insulted, it was found that the Lutwidge adopted a second persona. One of danger, and evil, and cruelty, one that didn't care for life, human or otherwise, one of seduction and skill. Vorpal never had any memory of those outbreaks, which made her second personality a lead for the lack of knowledge she felt.

"Oh, Break!" she cried. Vorpal shoved her head into Break's chest and squeezed his waist firmly. He was snug and cozy, and his shirt smelt of sugar and warmth. He stroked her short curly hair with one of his oversized sleeves, breathless from how securely she clutched him. As smart as Vorpal was, she never understood things like hugs and how you're not supposed to suffocate the person you're giving one to. With no memory of hugging family members and being scolded for squeezing too hard, Vorpal was clueless. This meant she could, and would, embrace him as tightly as she wanted to.

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><p>Finally finished the second chapter! It took me forever due to some severe detention time spent at school. Am I keeping Break in character? Anyway, please enjoy and review! Fans are my only reason for writing!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the pitiful length of this chapter. I haven't updated in forever and I recently recieved the seventh book in the series~ If you read this, and enjoyed it, PLEASE review, fav, or alert!** **Thanks~**

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><p>"Headmaster Lutwidge, you have to take these events into consideration!" Elliot slammed his fist down on a paper flooded desk. He glared at Vorpal with dark intensity, sparks of frustration flickering deep within his eyes. The young woman smiled airily back at her least favorite pupil. She knit her fingers together in thought, letting them brush against the thin nightshirt which draped over her badly scarred stomach. Vorpal had been rather rudely awakened from her midday nap by one of the academy's numerous servants and dragged into an office.<p>

"Elliot, I told you I'll be taking leave after today. That means there's nothing for the Headmaster to take care of. Now I want you and Leo to scurry back to class so I can finish my nap." she yawned, sharply breaking into a heavy, blood speckled cough. Vorpal wiped her hand on the linen top, silently cursing herself for not bringing a handkerchief.

"You need to take charge over this school!" Elliot snapped. He couldn't thoroughly express his fury at the woman. She constantly pestered him about his dukedom, threatened to cease writing Holy Knight, and stole from him for no proven reason. Just the other night Vorpal had snagged his sword for 'Secret Headmaster business'. The female let another short burst of ailment ripple from between her lips. She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a series of perfectly straight scars running down her wrist. Vorpal's eyes widened and she finished cleaning herself off. The perfectly arranged lines of torn flesh had slipped her mind for some time now. But they brought back sickly memories.

A young woman sat, lifeless, in a tub of frigid water. Her clothing was stained with salty tears of pain and sadness, the very same that dribbled down her cheeks. One eye tinted with violet was set deep within her skull and had been lined delicately with darkened flesh. The second sat colorless and limp upon her face, cold and ill from the long scar which ran through it. Dark brown hair had been tied in two, thick braids and now hung down over her shoulders.

'You'll satisfy me, whether it is your choice or not.' a wispy voice hissed its way into the child's mind. She glanced down at the silvery dagger held within her palm. Its elegance was equaled only by its evil. Sin oozed from each iridescent, ruby gem that had been placed in its handle. The glinting stones whispered constant sweet nothings into her ears as she lifted it above her head. The speaking wouldn't cease until she did what her sword requested. It was far more than a burden, it was a grotesque weight that she was forced to carry, with no hope of release or savior. This was the fifth night the weapon had hungered for her blood.

"N... N... No." her chapped, rosy lips moved just barely as she spoke. In a singular, swift, motion, the dagger was heaved away. It clanged sharply against the lacquered flooring. A sudden pain roared through her chest, like both lungs were about to burst. Blood mixed its way into the freezing bathwater, dissipating and drifting with beauty and disgust. Rampant coughs echoed through the restroom and cherry colored life-force sprinkled the walls.

'I will have your blood if I can't have the other's.'

"Elliot, dear, this will end one of two ways, either you accept the fact I'm leaving and you cry wolf to my subordinate. Or, I throw you and your Nightray rat of a valet out of my academy. Peter Rabbit would be wise to stay out of Mr. Mcgregor's garden." Vorpal grinned, releasing the terrible memory and reeling herself back to reality.


End file.
